


Our Hardwearing Hearts

by Mishiees



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sassy Will Graham, Slow Burn, WIP, Will Graham Shop Owner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishiees/pseuds/Mishiees
Summary: AU Meeting ~ Having left his work at the FBI for the sake of his sanity Will now owns a hardware store to occupy his time, freeing his mind from the dark places it was forced to go and letting him see with more clarity.It just so happens the store is the exact place Doctor Hannibal Lecter goes to purchase his 'art' supplies.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 87
Kudos: 300





	1. How It Comes To Be

Escaping from haunting the corridors of killer’s minds had been a difficult choice, but the right one. Jack Crawford, head of the behavioural science unit, made no qualms about regularly contacting Will to say just how many lives he had gambled with by refusing to use his talents to assist.

All Will knew, was without the shadows clawing away at his delicately balanced psyche he had time to think. His mind now came with a sharp clarify that had been too fogged with thoughts that weren’t his own before.

Since leaving his work as a Special Agent Will had decided to buy up an old hardware store, not far from his home in wolf trap.

The previous owner, Mr. Jenkins, had passed away, leaving a rather uninterested son from the city to deal with his father’s assets.

The man clearly had no intention of keeping it, so rather than it be knocked down Will had offered to buy the shack and the stock.

So there he was, proud owner of a shop.

It was a slow nine to five, where he could be as antisocial as he wanted, as most of the custom he had through the doors consisted of local and equally reclusive people. 

It allowed him to work on his own projects as well as take in repairs for others, which he could tinker away with in his own time.

He had also taken to putting a sign on the door that read “try again tomorrow” when he fancied fishing the day away.

In short, it was the perfect balance of mundane and challenge to occupy his time. For that reason Will Graham thought it was brilliant.

Pray for the person that threatened his newfound peace.


	2. A Ledger Of Your Life

The rusting copper bell chimed, as the door was pushed open and a man in an obnoxious designer suit strolled through the door.

Will looked up from the toaster he was reassembling, brow raised as he took in the appearance of the ~~intruder~~ customer.

The man looked so out of place amounted the cramped haberdashery. The dust and rust on old engines and tools lining the aisle, and the chaotic organisational system in place almost as hectic as the finely tailored attire the man stood in.

He was striking, though. Handsome. With strong cheekbones, kissable lips (an observation that Will filed away for later to examine) and chocolate eyes flickering over Will, just as Will’s eyes did the same. 

Not a hair out of place.

Clearly he was expecting to be greeted.

Will instead just met his gaze, held it for a moment, before looking back down at the object in his hands.

Popping the handle of his screwdriver between his teeth, fingers hooking around some of the wires, the message that there would be no warm welcome was clear.

The man confidently moved through the space, occupying the air and emanating power. It set Will on edge and soured his mood.

“Excuse me…” Came the polite enquiry, a eastern European accent dancing across the man’s tongue. “I’m looking for Mr. Jenkins.”

Removing the handle of the tool and placing it down on the counter top Will curtly responded. “He’s dead.” Thinking about it, he probably should have broken the news a bit more gently.

If the man was flustered by this news, he didn’t let it show. “How sad.” The tone hadn’t changed, though. Will certainly didn’t get the feeling this man was in any way saddened by the news. Inconvenienced by the news, yes… But not sad. “Are you the son he so fondly spoke of?”

Will snorted at that. “First off, Bob hated his son. A feeling which was pretty mutual between the pair of them. Secondly, no. I’m the new owner.”

“I see.” The response was restrained and cold. Clearly not to his taste, then, being called out for lying and charms landing unsuccessfully. “We had an arrangement.”

Sighing, clearly seeing there was no way to escape from this conversation, Will put the things he was working on down, and looked up at the other again.

Not chocolate brown eyes, more maroon.

He then shifted his focus to just above the man’s head.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Will unapologetically refuses to meet the man’s eye, just for that very comment, and he would make it his mission to go this whole interaction without doing so. “Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein? So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. What arrangement?”

The man smiled, clearly pleased about rattling Will’s cage before proceeding with the conversation. “Rather infrequently I have the urge to do something creative. The previous owner would acquire the items I need for the pieces I am hoping to create.”

“Why not just get them online?” Will said with a shrug.

“I am rather old fashioned and enjoy the trust and relationship formed over time with any tradesmen I use. Am I to understand it that you would rather not have my business?”

“Your mistake is thinking that I _need_ your business.”

“You are the proprietor of this establishment.”

“Oh! You’re right.” Will said, wicked smirk playing on his lips as he tone dipped into sarcasm. “I completely forgot. Please, sir, let me know what I can do for you.”

The man before him was simmering wish rage. Will could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his lips formed a tight line. Will broke his own promise and made eye contact, looking at the darkness that roared behind the red gaze.

“Do you have a business card?” The man asked, which was really rather curious. What on earth would he want with that?

Pulling out a piece of sandpaper from below the countertop, Will scrawled his name and number onto it, before thrusting it at the man.

The other took it, delicately folding it before ticking it away in a pocket for safe keeping.

“Thank you, Mr. Graham.”

“Call me Will.”

“Doctor Lecter.” The man politely extended a hand for Will to shake.

Rubbing down his dirty palm against the leg of his trousers Will shook it back before pulling it away. His mind supplied something. “Wait… H. Lecter?”

“The very one.”

Oh, now this was good. Pulling out a notebook from under the counter, Will slammed it onto the side. It had tattered and fraying edges, a label that had been replaced countless times, and when opened has pages upon pages of previous purchases.

Will smiled, and ran his fingers along the list. “Quite the artist.” He muttered, looking at the varying supplies sold over the years. Doctor Lecter was just watching with avid curiosity. He closed the book and held it out to the other man. “You’ll be wanting this.”

“Thank you.” And in the short interaction there had been a shift in the other man. It looked like instead of frustration there was only intrigue. Rather than taking it, the doctor simply produced a list, written on fine paper with beautiful cursive writing. He slid it across to Will.

“I will be needing these items.”

Confused by the sudden shift, Will looked over the list, mentally checking off what he already had. “When by?” This was quite a lot of money to be paying out in one go. Then again, given the man’s attire, he wasn’t worried about bankrupting the other.

“Oh, as soon as you are able.” Came the pleased response. Will rolled his eyes. Clearly the Doctor was enjoying the fact he was doing as expected of him. Control freak.

“I have everything here or at my place. I can get them back here by tomorrow.” Pointing to one of the items on the list he scratched his head. “I don’t have this, and it’ll take me a while to find that particular joint, but I can weld one for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful. I am sure the guests of my dinner party will be overjoyed to hear how quickly they can find themselves sat at my table. How much of a deposit would you require?”

Will waved him off. “It’s fine. Like I said, I’m not really running this place for a profit. Besides, you haven’t given me a reason not to trust you.”

“I am sure that is something that comes quite outside of your comfort zone.” The man mused thoughtfully.

“I don’t take therapy sessions as payment, Doctor. Don’t psychoanalyse me.”

The smile pulled across Lecter’s face at the brilliant insight Will had shown into his profession. Narcissist. “Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.”

“Do your dinner party guests not find it a tasteless habit of yours?”

“Do you have trouble with taste?”

“My thoughts are often not tasty.”

Clearly charmed by Will’s abrasive answers the other had added an undercurrent to his tone as he spoke, leaning in slightly, as if this were a secret to be shared. “Nor mine.” Was he being flirted with, or threatened?

With this, Hannibal took a step back. “Until tomorrow then, Mr. Graham.”

“Doctor.” Will said in place of a goodbye, as he went back to fixing the toaster, so he could start working on the welding project for one Dr. H. Lecter.


	3. A Meal We Share

The next day, upon entering the store in an equally outrageous suit, Hannibal was the first to greet the impertinent store owner. “Good afternoon, Mr. Graham.”

Once more, the man didn’t bother to look up from whatever it was that was more pressing than good manners. Though this time, he did at least get a response from the younger man. A short and to the point “Doctor.” Which acknowledged his presence.

Moving forward to come to a stop on the other side of the counter top, Hannibal placed a bag on the side.

This caught Will’s attention, the man glancing up from what he was reading to suspiciously eye the package, before looking back to Hannibal.

“Anything you would recommend?” Hannibal asked, nodding to the book, as he began unpacking the two meals from his bag.

Looking curious and yet imposed upon Will turned the book over to reveal the cover. ‘Inside the mind of the Chesapeake Ripper by Dr. Chilton’. “Are you into fiction?” Will quipped, to Hannibal’s delight.

“You do not believe in the Ripper?”

“No. I believe in the Ripper, but this ‘Abel Gideon’ is nothing more than a fabrication of Chilton’s desire for fame and unethical practices.”

“Quite the scathing review. I shall be sure to share it with him, when I have him for dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner.” Will nodded to the two Tupperware containers that had been set out before the pair.

“I fear we may have got off to an unfortunate start yesterday. I am of the mind that a good meal can repair even the most tumultuous of relationships.” Removing the lids from the containers a divine smell waffled up from the still warm and beautifully presented meals.

“You brought me food?”

“A late lunch.” Hannibal produced a fork and knife from the bag and held it out for Will to take. “Have you already eaten?”

“Do you always ask questions you know the answer to?” Will took the cutlery, stomach lurching at the prospect of something to eat. He had skipped breakfast this morning, so he could finish his project for Hannibal. “Forget that, we already established you’re a psychiatrist. Of course you do.”

Ignoring the jab to his chosen career, Hannibal began to sample a morsel of his own meal. “I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage.”

He watched as Will prodded at the meal with his fork, before scooping some onto the prongs and brining it to his mouth. There was a nearly inaudible moan coming from tempting lips. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Ah, so he did have manners. He was just selective about using them. A defence mechanism, Hannibal was sure. “My pleasure.” Pleased with his own creation but keeping that unnoticed the pair continued to eat in a comfortable silence for a moment.

Having left the shop yesterday, still unsure if he was interested in William Graham or angered Hannibal had done some research into the other and the results were fascinating.

Over the evening his mind had changed from the dish that would best accompany the rude shop owner, and instead moved into befriending him.

“So, you know Chilton?” Will broke the silence between the, drawing Hannibal’s attention.

“We often cross paths in our chosen profession. I would consider us acquaintances.”

“Interesting choice of words. Not friends?” Will comments, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of the man’s mouth.

“I would say we would struggle to hold a conversation that wasn’t speculative.” 

“Ouch. Does he know you consider his work to have no basis in knowledge?”

“It is not my acceptance he craves.” Hannibal nodded his eyes to the book.

“If I was writing a book on the Chesapeake Ripper I would want it to be flattering.”

“And would your love note be more than conjectural?”

Will once again chuckled, a noise Hannibal found himself wanting to pull from the young man more often. “That question is a trap. I can’t answer that without either saying I don’t have enough knowledge to be writing a book, or by agreeing and confessing my love of a serial killer.” Will paused before adding. “Been reading TattleCrime, Doctor Lecter?”

“I must confess I was somewhat curious about you, after our last meeting.”

“So you researched me?”

“If you could call what Miss Lounds writes more than hearsay, then indeed.”

“And?”

“It certainly didn’t answer my questions around your change in career. You are clearly above the confines of these walls. Which begs the question, what darkness fogged your sights?”

“I’m seeing with a new clarity. Do you often have such disregard for people’s boundaries?”

Hannibal hadn’t quite been anticipating the accusation. “It was that or consider finding myself another hardware store. I am glad to say I no longer feel I will be requiring that.”

“Because I have a knack for monsters?”

“Do you?”

“Superstition. I simply see people for what they are.”

“And what is it you see, William?”

Will glanced over Hannibal with a smile before continuing. “Where would be the fun in telling you, Hannibal?”

“I don’t recall giving you my name.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the monopoly on overstepping personal boundaries. We share a mutual friend.” There was a lull in the conversation while both continue eating, Hannibal trying to think who would have been careless enough to divulge information about him. How do you see me?”

“The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.”

“I don’t see us becoming friendly, if that is what you are hoping.”

“God forbid.” It wasn’t actual offence, Hannibal didn’t believe Will when he declined a comradery flourishing between them. “Entertain me, I cannot help but wonder why you feel that?”

“I don’t find you all that interesting.”

“You will.” Comes the promise, as both men finish off their meals.

Will wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, getting to his feet and disappearing into the back of the shop without a word. It Left Hannibal to pack away their late lunch.

Several bags, were dropped onto the countertop as Will entered into the room once more. “Everything you ordered.”

“My thanks at the speed in which you gathered them.” It was certainly a speedier delivery than he was used to. Searching through the items he paused upon finding the custom made join Will had crafted for him. He extracted it from between the other items and turning it over in his hands, inspecting it. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s two bits of metal at a 90 degree angle.” Will deadpanned, with an eye roll. “Call it 1,500 for the lot.”

“Quite the discount. Or is it that you don’t value your own time?”

“Alright, call it five grand, then.” Amused Hannibal fished out his wallet only to be paused. “I don’t have a machine.”

“Then how is it you expect me to pay?”

Will simply shrugged, picking up his book and turning back to the page he had marked prior to this conversation, leaving a rather exasperated Hannibal wondering exactly how he was to overcome this. He didn’t have time to return to wolf trap for another few weeks.

Slipping off his watch, he placed it on the counter, which was at least enough to afford him a glance from Will. “If my maths serves me right, that would make me in debt to you.”

Collecting up his items, Hannibal simply smiled before moving to leave. “Until next time, Mr. Graham.”

“Doctor.”


	4. Divine Intervention

As his old car rumbled past a Bentley pulled up with its hazards flashing Will decided to extend his altruism and offer assistance. The broken down vehicle looked rather misplaced along the rural road, dusted with fresh autumn leaves and illuminated only by the star speckled sky above.

Will pulled in a few lengths ahead of the vehicle, leaning over to his passenger seat and pulling a torch out of the glove compartment.

He climbed out of the vehicle, slamming the driver side door closed, sound echoing off the surrounding trees before moving to the rear door.

Yanking it open with an accompanying whistle one of his many dogs came tumbling out of the seat and launched onto the grass, immediately beginning to explore the area filled with new scents.

People were less inclined to start panicking and pull a piece if they could see an pet alongside.

“Winston.” Will called, bringing the animal into heal as he moved towards the driver who has pulled his head up from beneath the bonnet.

Will missed a step when the man in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up on muscular forearms turned, revealing the Hannibal Lecter. 

The other looked equally perplexed by Will’s arrival at the scene. “Mr.Graham.” Came the uncertain greeting.

“Doctor.” Will mumbled, drawing in closer so they weren’t having to use raised voices to converse.

“I hadn’t thought my predicament had become so dire I was seeing apparitions?”

“You’d hope for something better than me.” Will watched as Winston moved forward and circled the good doctor. Sniffing at the offered hand.

“And this is?”

“Winston.”

Hannibal carefully moved the outstretched hand to pet the dog on top of its head, smoothing fur down gently to the appreciation of the golden haired pup. “You strike me as more of a cat person.”

Will chuckled. “My six other dogs might strongly disagree with that statement.”

“Do they fill the void of your loneliness?” 

“You know, for a man stuck in the middle of nowhere you would certainly hope you’d learn to hold your tongue.”

Hannibal seemed overjoyed with this brittle lashing. “It has been quite some time. An act divine intervention, perhaps.”

“Awfully cruel of God to break your car. Have you done something to incur their wrath?”

“God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn.”

“You certainly to make me think you are without sin, Doctor.” It was a well-timed and revealing prod at the veneer that was so evenly and skilfully encasing the man before him. Before Hannibal had chance to respond to the attempt to peal away his person suit Will added. “Did God feel good about that?”

“He felt powerful.” The heavy silence of shared understanding sat between them for a moment. Both men watching each other, neither being the first to move of speak, calculating the next move.

Will held up his torch to the other. “Hold this.” It was less of a request and more an order as he pressed the torch into Hannibal’s hands before going to look under the hood of the vehicle.

After taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Will Graham bent over the engine of his Bentley, Hannibal moved to stand beside the other, turning on the light and holding it above their heads so finding a solution to his predicament might be slightly easier.

“What are you doing out here?” Will mentioned, as he leaned further into the vehicle, trying to get a closer look at one of the gaskets.

“I might ask you the same question. I do hope you haven’t developed and unhealthy infatuation.”

“I’m not the one staring at your arse.” Moving away from car he looked over Hannibal with a warm smile before caring a hand through his curls. “Do you want the bad news, or the good?”

Turning off the torch Hannibal simply inclined his head for Will to continue.

“I can fix it… but not until the morning.”

Humming Hannibal sighed going to fish out his phone. “Rather unfortunate, but at least this unforeseen circumstance has allowed us to cross paths once more.”

Wil knelt down to stroke Winston, praising him for being such a good boy and remaining sat by the two men’s feet while he inspected the car. Will pushed his head against the flat of the dogs, enjoying the way happy energy vibrated through the animal, tail wagging furiously at the attention. “I haven’t said the bad news yet.”

Hannibal paused his dialling to look down at the sweet sight of Will releasing his inhibitions and basking in the joy and best man’s best friend. “Which would be?”

“I live just around the corner and you can fight the rest of the pack for a spot on the couch.” 

It would seem ‘acts of God’ always had a way of turning up in Hannibal’s favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Hannibal the kind of desperate hoe that would sabotage his own car just to do a meet cute with Will? _Yes_
> 
> But y'all already knew that.


	5. Attraction Requires Actions

What could only be appropriately described as a torrent of beasts surrounded Hannibal Lecter, having greeted Winston who had tumbled from the vehicle alongside the two men.

This scene was much to the amusement of Will. He watched as the pack encircled the doctor, tuffs to dander now forming a blanket across lower legs, as noses sniffed intrusively over the stranger.

He didn’t bring home guests often. 

A wordless plea of rescue focused in Will’s direction and had the store owner chuckling out a laugh, before pressing his lips together and blowing out a short sharp whistle of air, calling the offending army to heel.

Hannibal moved his Italian loafers over the uneven ground to Will’s house, mind already making note of how many animals he would need to disable, should he have to create his own invitation inside to deal with Will. There was only so long the other man would pique his curiosity, and eventually his interest in the curly haired brunette would grow stale.

Hannibal was sure of it.

Will busied himself filling water bowls and trying to push half-finished projects to clear some space while completing his usual evening routine.

When he re-joined Hannibal in his main room he watched as the other filled the chaos and cluster with an overbearing presence, something nagging in the back of the ex-profilers mind.

“Should I be concerned about the structural integrity of the house?” Hannibal quipped, clearly in direct relation to the bed in the room.

“No more than I should be about the company I choose to keep.” Will shot back, moving to the fire place to light it. He felt eyes boring into him as he knelt on his floor, stuffing it with kindling before striking a match and stoking the flame. “Whiskey?”

“Neat, if you please.” Hannibal moved to take a seat on the sofa, legs crossing over, clearly waiting for Will to leave the room so he might start brushing the offending dog fur away from his pant leg.

Not that it would do much good, the pack had finished off the dinner Will had served them moments before and were back to explore the new person in their environment with an avid interest. 

Their hair seemed to form tumbleweed balls around the house, even in the still of the night.

Returning with one tumbler, one chipped mug and a bottle of half-drunk whiskey in hand, Will poured the pair two fingers, handing Hannibal the nicer glass, before settling down in the seat next to the other. 

The fire crackled in the background, light dancing with the shadows in the room, and glow spilling out a comfortable warmth.

“There are easier ways to get my attention.” Will eventually broke the silence, sipping at his drink, pale eyes never leaving his guest.

“Would they have worked?”

The answering silence, was all the answer that Hannibal needed. He raised his glass to the other by why of cheers, before taking a swig of his own drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's god mad bad writers block? I am sorry dear sweet humans. I am hoping once I've had a chance to sleep I may actually be able to get back to producing you quality... Or maybe the same trash quality but at least content, aha.
> 
> Until then, here is a set up.


	6. Green Eyes Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is not abandoned... I'm just trying to deal with the apocalypse as best I can, so forgive me the sporadic uploading. I hope y'all are okay.

Grumbling with his face against the pillow, Will rolled over in bed to try and silence his phone alarm. Wait. He didn’t set a phone alarm.

Sitting up he blinked the rest from his eyes, trying to get his sight to adjust to the blazing light and number flashing upon the screen. He was far too chaotic to bother saving them in, if anyone was important enough to him he would remember the number he needed to contact them.

It was Alana Bloom. Odd. Unless she was phoning to warn him of Jack planning to manipulate him back into the BSU the pair rarely spoke.

It was something he was thankful for, as ever since a mistimed kiss, when he had been feeling particularly unstable, things had been uncomfortable between the pair. He hoped his pursuit of information on Hannibal hadn’t ushered in the beginning of a new era between the pair.

Biting the bullet, he answered the call, pressing the device to his ear, as Winston stirred from his slumber to look at his owner. “Hello?” The first word to leave his throat crackled into the silence of the line. “Alana?”

“Oh, Will! Hi.” Something in her voice sounded distance. Shocked, perhaps? Or simply apprehensive. “I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

“My phone?” He paused on that thought. “Actually, never mind, that’s fair. What important enough for a voice mail but not delicate enough for a text?” 

“Your relationship with Doctor Lecter.”

That definitely work Will up. “I don’t have a relationship with Doctor Lecter.”

“When you had called me to ask for information I had assumed that it was perhaps a personal enquiry?” She was delicately picking her words, treating him like he was the fragile mess that threatened to break before everyone’s eyes. This was establishing exactly why he loved his store so much.

“You mean, you thought I was calling you to ask if he would be a decent therapist?”

“To put it bluntly.”

“I’d rather blunt than indirect and insincere.”

Alana signed on the other end of the phone, like a reprimanding adult dealing with an impertinent infant. “I’m concerned you’re both unable to identify when you’ve crossed into unethical practice.”

“He’s not my therapist.” Will blanked, already regretting answering this call. “And it’s not any of your business.”

“I would say it becomes my business when in our scheduled brunch together he arrives covered in bites and scratches, in a day old suit wasn’t ideal.”

Ah. She was jealous. That explained her fury a little bit more. “How do you know it was me?”

“Hannibal told me.” 

That sounded far too much like romantic entanglement for Will’s liking. Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes he tried to sensitively put his response, and instead opted to buy some time. “He told you?”

“In other words.” Alana paused, clearly making this call from her office, as papers moved around the desk. “He mentioned he was considering inviting you to one of his dinner parties, and wanted to know if I was aware of any allergies.”

That was far worse than romantic entanglement, that was basically a public outing. “I, uh, don’t really have any. Not a huge fan of mushrooms because...” He swallowed thickly. “I mean, you know.”

“You’re actually planning to attend?” Alana asked astonishment clear.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me you don’t like mushrooms? Will, are you alright?”

“I don’t need a therapist, Doctor Bloom. Be that you or Doctor Lecter.” He spit the words with venom, her prying questions pushing him to evaluate his delicately balanced psyche.

“There is not need to be quite so hostile.”

“You phoned me to accuse me of fucking my therapist!” He shouldn’t of shouted, he certainly shouldn’t have mentioned the sex, and he wished the bed would swallow him whole. Even Winston whined at his sudden tempter.

Deflated and clearly upset Alana all but whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re not…”

“Will…”

“Alana. Do you _know_ Hannibal? I mean, really know him?” He wasn’t sure why he felt now was the right time to be asking, but the idea of not only Alana’s emotions being on the line had him wanting to pry further into the man who kept entering his shop.

“For many years now. Are you suggesting you know him better?”

“No. I just… Has he done this before?”

“Thrown a dinner party?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not.” Will couldn’t help but wonder if there way a time he was this painfully slow.

“They’re the highlight of most people’s social calendars, Will. Where are you going with this?”

Will didn’t know. “Nowhere. This is going nowhere.” He signed. “It was just a one night stand, Alana. I didn’t know you… were more familiar with him. I’m sorry, for snapping and… yeah. Look. I need to get to work, but we’re okay, right?” 

“Of course Will, we’re perfectly fine. I’ll tell Hannibal parties aren’t really your thing.”

Will flopped back against the pillows in defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be a flashback to the night before. :3 I'm thinking Hannibal POV, whatcha feelin?


End file.
